The memory looped again, clearer this time like the river wanted to remind me of every single breath before the blood.
Click. Click.
Red heels tapping against polished tiles. Smoke curling from my lips. My reflection flickered across glass and chrome, surrounded by luxury and men who looked too eager to please. The air smelled like polish and money sterile, expensive, artificial.
I wasn't even trying to capture any attention But I owned the room anyway.
“Welcome, Miss,” the salesman said with a grin that practiced charm a thousand times. He handed me a glass of red wine like it was a ritual offering.
I accepted it, more for effect than thirst. “I need a car,” I said. My voice cut through his smile. “Something clean. Quiet. Powerful.”
He lit up immediately, gesturing toward rows of ca
